The Sexy Beast Strikes Back
by THE Kid Hardy
Summary: Takes place after a not-so-happy promo from the King of the World himself on RAW 3.16.09. Chris Jericho needs to get rid of his tension, and his wife is more than willing to comply.


**Title:** The Sexy Beast Strikes Back

**Author:** Krys/Kid Dynamo/THE Kid Hardy. Many names…one person. Haha.

**Main Characters:** Chris Jericho, Krys Jericho (OC).

**Summary:** Takes place after a not-so-happy promo from the King of the World himself on RAW 3.16.09. Chris Jericho needs to get rid of his tension, and his wife is more than willing to comply.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any WWE Superstar, Diva, Legend, or anyone who has ever been under contract to World Wrestling Entertainment. As much as I wish I could, I do not own Christopher Irvine (better known as Chris Jericho), because believe me, if I did, I wouldn't be _writing_ about this stuff! LMAO! Anyways, please do not attempt to take this seriously, review, fantasize, and feel free to just all-around enjoy!

**Note:** This story is dedicated to my buddy TakerTakeMe, who, along with myself, are two of the biggest, if not the biggest, Jerichoholics on this site and MySpace. I promised her that I'd have a hot Jeri-fic for her to enjoy two weeks ago, but alas, the suckiness of school got to me, and I had to put it off. But here it is now, so enjoy people!

* * *

Chris Jericho was not a happy man.

The match he had been hoping to get, the match that would be his WrestleMania moment before WrestleMania would take place, had completely backfired on him. That old bastard, Ric Flair, had to go and call up the other has-beens who had the sheer audacity to be offended by his words of truth, and decided to pull a sneak attack on him. And to top it all off, the rickety bastard, who was one bad, hyped-up promo away from yet another heart attack, had the nerve to strike him in his face! His beautiful face was now lessened in beauty from those damned so-called "Legends", but only for a short while. Come WrestleMania, he was going to get his revenge on all four of the useless old hypocrites. But for now, he was going to let them be.

Just for now.

--

Krys Jericho watched her husband's seething face on the television screen from his locker room backstage with an excited grin. Just seeing his angry face caused a shiver to run up her spine, and her heart to race. She loved whenever he got angry; it meant that he would always come back to the locker room all kinds of pissed off, and she'd be the one to…shall we say…bear the brunt of his fury.

As he seethed to a frightened Todd Grisham, Krys slowly uncrossed her legs, and let the smirk widen across her aroused features.

"What we just saw just proves my point completely, Grisham," Chris seethed, his blue eyes snapping arctic fire, "that all of these 'Legends' are nothing more than desperate, shameless parasites who don't know when to give it up! This was supposed to be _my_ WrestleMania tonight!"

"I'm sure you must be at least a little bit embarrassed—"

The smirk on her face grew wider as Todd tried his best to console the angry Canadian, who took his words as the interviewer patronizing him, and angrily cut in.

"_Embarrassed?_ Why would I be embarrassed, huh? I was attacked and assaulted unfairly by four men at once! Why would I be…?" For one moment, he was so consumed with rage that he was unable to speak, then an idea struck him, and he cast a speculative glance in Grisham's direction. "You know what, Todd? You might be onto something here. Maybe it's time that I teach these Legends a little something about embarrassment."

Not even five minutes later, Krys was met with the angry stride of her husband, his anger taking hold of him once more. Not even bothering to try to calm him down, she simply remained in her place on the sofa, watching him pace back and forth, ranting about the Legends.

"…Those fucking old bastards, I swear, I'm gonna give Flair _another_ heart attack if he keeps provoking me," he raged. "I've never in my life been so fucking humiliated, and by a group of has-beens, no less! What the hell does that say about me as an athlete? That I just let a group of old men attack me whenever they feel like it just because they're pissy over someone finally speaking the truth? What the hell does that say about my character? Do they know how fucking humiliated I am right now? Where the hell do those old bastards get off, attacking me like that? I'm Chris Jericho; I'll fucking _destroy_ them!"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you will," Krys mumbled absently, waving off his whining and continuing to watch RAW. It had been a while since she had gotten any from the man, and she was playing the game too well. Playing like she wasn't interested in his rants and tirades always got underneath his skin, and it always worked out well in her favor in the end.

Chris stopped mid-rant and gave Krys an incredulous look. "Excuse me, what did you just say?" he asked, looking at her as if she were insane. "Was that _sarcasm_ coming from you, my own _wife_ of all people? You don't think I can take on four old has-beens, is that it?"

Beneath her calm and placid expression, Krys was barely reigning in her excitement. She could practically see his eyes turning red, and she loved it. "Oh no, I totally believe you can. It's just…well, I'm not concerned about your feud with a bunch of Legends right now."

"What the hell are you on, woman?!" he all but shouted at her. "This is a battle for my _pride_, to prove that these parasites can't go around doing whatever they want to, and still be respected for it! I'm the only one who's stepping up to those men out there, I'm out there speaking the truth each and every week, and I'm the bad guy. Everyone looks at me as if I'm the infidel for daring to say such atrocious and degrading things to men who paved the way for me. Well—"

"For the love of God, Chris, SHUT UP!" Shooting to her feet, she covered his mouth with her hand. "You've been going on and on and on with this very same rant for like, a month now. I'm sick of hearing about it! If you're going to whine, go bitch to someone else! I'm trying to watch the rest of RAW; I wanna see if Randy Orton is gonna get his ass handed to him by Trips or not."

She moved her hand from his mouth and turned back to the sofa, but before she could fully move, Chris had grabbed hold of her wrists and pulled her back to face him. "You'd rather watch some stupid fucking storyline between Orton and Triple H than support me in my hour of need?"

She gave a nonchalant shrug. "It's not as if you've given me a reason to stand out there and support you and all… I mean, being backstage is no fun at all; so I get bored easily, and your boring diatribes about the Legends and Mickey Rourke are hella boring. Give me a little inspiration here, dude; I'm dying of boredom."

"Oh, so you want inspiration, do you?" His eyes were still an angry, vibrant blue, but this time, they were also full of something else. The challenge of taming his wife and forcing her to see things his way. He pushed her against the nearest wall, ignoring her gasp of shock upon her body colliding with the wall, and pressed himself against her, bracing his arms on either side of her. She stared up at him, her brown eyes darkening in excitement once again, as she felt one arms lazily slip between them and unbuckle her jeans.

"What's this?" he inquired quietly, feeling the dampness between her legs. "That for me?"

"No shit," she replied breathlessly as he started moving his fingers inside her. "You know I love it when you get angry." In less than a minute's time, she was writhing against the wall, gasping his name as he relentlessly taunted her, teasing her with his fingers. "Fuck me, Jerky."

"Is that all it takes to get your attention?" he asked slyly, removing his fingers with a smug look on his face.

"I swear to God, I'll kick your ass and give you a WrestleMania moment if you don't give me what I want," she snarled, her excitement now turning to frustration. "I want you to throw me down and just bang my brains out--"

Before she could get the chance to finish what she'd been saying, Chris chose that exact moment to grab her and shove her down onto the carpeted floor. The dark blue in his eyes were no longer from anger, but from unbridled lust. He unzipped her jeans and wasted no time pulling them, her shoes, and her panties. Krys impatiently sat up and started to pull his trunks down, but was shoved back onto her back by the Canadian, who removed his wrestling trunks himself and slid inside her with one quick motion.

Both of them groaned out loud at the motion, and Chris started to move first, withdrawing and thrusting back inside her. Krys moaned loudly, her hands clawing at Chris' shoulders and back, even traveling down to his backside and digging her nails into the flesh. A feral look crossed his features, and he began driving himself into her tightness, loving the sound of her whimpers and pleas for release.

"Is this what you want, Krys?" he growled, using his arms to brace himself over her, while still continuing to give her what she wanted. "Is this what you wanted?"

Unable to speak, she was only to give a brief nod. With her nails digging into his shoulders, Krys gave in to a powerful release, Chris not too far behind with one of his own. As soon as it was over, two shared a small kiss, showing the love that they truly felt for one another, then Chris stood to his feet and started to move away towards the shower area.

"You know, Chris, you should definitely get pissy more often," Krys said to him, standing up and grabbing her gear bag. "It's so easy to get under your skin and get a good boning. Just one thing."

"What?"

"Get angry again real soon." She gave him a wink, and he smirked at her.

"Seriously Krys, if I had known that was all it took to get in your pants, I'd stay angry all the time. But now, I'll tell you this, my dear wife: You play your cards right, and I'll be pissed off again by the time we get back to the hotel." He gave her another of his famous sideways smirks, then disappeared into the showers.

With a smirk of her own on her face, she tossed her underwear into the gear bag, then zipped the bag up and followed him into the shower.

_**Twenty Minutes Later**_

After having more fun in the shower, Krys, finally dressed, made her way through the halls of the arena, until she came across the room she'd been looking for. Knocking on the door three times, the smirk widened when the door opened and Ric Flair emerged with a smile on his face.

"Thank you so much for all your help," she said. Placing her gear bag down on the floor, she unzipped it, reached inside, and pulled out two things. In one hand was a bottle of Claret wine, and in her other hand was a box of Viagra. She handed both to the older wrestler, whose grin got wider. "Thanks again, and have fun with your…" she cast a look into the locker room, where two young women sat, waiting for him to return to their sides "…friends."

"Thanks a bunch, beautiful!" Ric said with a wide grin on his face. "I had been meaning to get some of my own, but you know…entertaining the ladies has the Nature Boy all worn out. You did me a world of good, and now it's time for two more lovely ladies to ride Space Mountain tonight! WOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Trying not to look too disgusted, Krys put on a smile, mumbled a "Good night" to the Nature Boy, then turned on her heel and quickly strode away.

In the background, not too far from where Krys had just departed Flair's locker room, Chris Jericho watched his wife turn the hall and leave with a smirk on his face. Oh yes, his wife was going to have fun with a very angry husband when they got back to the hotel. And he was going to enjoy what he'd do to Flair next week on RAW.

The End!


End file.
